adarlingwendy

Granted, it was not the same nursery window, but still the same house, the same street. Wendy did tell the boys another tale of Peter before they went to bed, and she returned to her new room. Yet she still was the same girl, it pleased her just a bit to think that Peter did seem, despite his initial hesitations, to remember her.

Wendy giggled as Peter mused her hair, and fought the intentions to give him a scolding for doing so! Being a boy, particularly one who was not fussy over his own appearance, he did not know what precisely it entailed to get one’s hair into these tight ringlets. She noticed almost immediately how Peter’s short boots had almost a layer of soap upon them. Did she really darn his shadow back in place so poorly that it had come out?

“Surely you have not run out of adventures for them, Peter?”

The Lost Boys were a rowdy bunch that could tend to themselves, if they were not all involved in a row together. They like Peter only needed a mother figure to darn their clothes, kiss their wounds, sing them to sleep. 

“I remember!” 

Peter laughed along to Wendy, seating himself on her mattress, with legs criss-crossed. The bedroom looked familiar—not much had changed.

The wallpaper was still a pasty white and floral blend, and the aroma of the room was sweet and merry as Peter had remembered. 

The youthful child then observed Wendy’s behavior as she had gotten lost in her own thought process—Girls sure are strange. Peter’s thought process was rather simple, being a child, life for him was as simple as the alphabet. 

“Run out of adventures?!” Peter exclaimed, jumping to his feet, wiping a bit of soap on her sheets, “that’s ridiculous! Those blockheads don’t know a thing about adventure! Why I’d banish them in a heartbeat if it weren’t for you Wendy!” 

He then smiled and composed himself, resting his chin on the palms of his hands, “Well, Neverland is waiting! Second star to the right and straight on til’ morning, are ya’ coming?”